


Clarke, please

by bowlingfornerds



Category: The 100
Genre: Begins at Finn's death and continues from there, CELEBRATORY FIC, Canon Divergent, F/M, Finn's death is written in mild detail, Kind of angsty, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Survival, Theres like one swear word lets be real, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-07 23:40:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6830131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bowlingfornerds/pseuds/bowlingfornerds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“They’re your soulmate’s,” Clarke’s mother told her. <br/>“My soulmate’s?” Clarke asked. Abby Griffin nodded with a sad smile. “What’s a soulmate?”<br/>“It’s your other half,” Abby replied. “It’s the person whose soul matches yours. It may be difficult to recognise, at first, but it’ll be there – a connection that overrides everything else.” Her voice was soft, quiet; wistful in a way Clarke just couldn’t comprehend.<br/>“Why are the words theirs?”<br/>“Because it’s something they’ll say to you, one day.” Abby swallowed and Clarke frowned, staring at the script on her skin; black and bold – contrasting against the paleness of her arm. “Clarke, these are the last words your soulmate will ever say to you.” </p><p>Soulmate AU, canon divergence, a remake of the second fan fiction I ever posted on this website as a celebration fic for my one year anniversary of being on AO3!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clarke, please

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Thanks, Princess](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3930532) by [bowlingfornerds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bowlingfornerds/pseuds/bowlingfornerds). 



> IT'S BEEN A YEAR!  
> Wow, what a year. A lot has happened, if I'm being honest. I made a friend. I lost said friend. I made another friend that the first friend was irrationally jealous of. Good times.  
> But this is the one year anniversary of me joining and posting my first ever fan fiction on archiveofourown. The original fan fic is actually a [three-legged race fic with Raven and Clarke](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3925747) and I just didn't want to rewrite that, because it's cute and happy. [Thanks, Princess](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3930532) is the second fic I wrote, though, a year ago tomorrow, and I really just wanted to recreate it, bigger and better, and add some Bellarke in there, too.  
> If you want to read those original fics, go for it - you'll easily be able to see that I'm better at writing than I used to be, and I think that's really great to be able to say.  
> Thanks so much for reading, for sticking with me and commenting - it means the world, and I have put so much effort into these fics over the past year, and to be able to come here with 430k words written on this account is absolutely amazing.  
> Please enjoy.

“They’re your soulmate’s,” Clarke’s mother told her, looking over from where she sat by her desk. Clarke, ten and cross-legged on the sofa, ran her fingertips over the words tattooed into her skin – _Clarke, please_. She’d wondered what they meant for a while now; was her own body begging her for something? Had someone written them there whilst she slept? So many questions had swirled around her mind, coming to a sudden halt.

“My soulmate’s?” Clarke asked. Abby Griffin nodded with a sad smile. She wandered over, sitting down next to Clarke and wrapping an arm around her daughter’s shoulder, before pulling her in. Clarke rested her head on her mother’s shoulder as Abby gently took her arm, grazing her thumb across Clarke’s name. “What’s a soulmate?”

“It’s your other half,” Abby replied. “It’s the person whose soul matches yours. It may be difficult to recognise, at first, but it’ll be there – a connection that overrides everything else.” Her voice was soft, quiet; wistful in a way Clarke just couldn’t comprehend.

“Why are the words theirs?”

“Because it’s something they’ll say to you, one day.” Abby swallowed and Clarke frowned, staring at the script on her skin; black and bold – contrasting against the paleness of her arm. “Clarke, these are the last words your soulmate will ever say to you.” Clarke’s breath caught in her throat.

“Before they die?” Abby didn’t say anything. “They could just leave, right? Maybe they have to go away and they just don’t come back – it won’t be death, will it?” Abby shook her head, more to herself than to Clarke, and her daughter shrunk into herself a little, eyes not leaving her words – _Clarke, please_ – comma attached and all.

“They are the last words your soulmate will ever say to you before they die,” Abby promised; a sick promise she wished she would never have to make. The two were silent for a few beats, letting the information fill every crevice of the room, and then-

“What are your words?” Clarke asked, looking up at her mother now. Abby rolled up her sleeve, revealing the black text: _I love you, kid_. “Daddy calls me ‘kid’,” Clarke said, and Abby nodded. “Is that how you knew he’s your soulmate?” Abby swallowed.

“I’ve always known he was my soulmate, long before you came along,” she said, her hand gently brushing Clarke’s bright blonde hair – so different from everyone else’s. Only a few people were blonde on the Ark, and Abby used to love being able to tote her around; a flash of brightness amongst the darkness of the ship. But now it was bright within a dark conversation and Abby didn’t want to think about it. “And one day I’ll know for sure.”

“When Daddy dies?” Abby hated the universe for casting soulmates.

“Or when I do,” she whispered back.

-

There was Finn. Finn, Finn, Finn – he was so beautiful, so promising; filled with so much life and heart and pain, and Clarke loved him even though she wished she didn’t. He was a peacemaker; that was his role from the moment he hit the ground - the Spacewalker who wanted to make things right. His hair always flowed in the wind and his eyes lit up like stars, and Clarke _didn’t want to be in love with him._

That was something she couldn’t take.

There was too much going on; Grounders on Earth when it was supposed to be barren; and then a whole society functioning within a mountain, but ready to drain her friends. She didn’t want to be thinking about Finn; Finn who had kissed her and made her feel safe and wanted and _loved_ and then felt the same for the other girl from the stars; the girl with long dark hair and bronze skin who _built her own pod_ and _flew herself to the ground_.

But Finn made himself a point in her mind; marked out his territory and was relentless. She didn’t want to love him – she had more to focus on that a boy who wanted to give her everything. She had an alliance with the Grounder Commander, and the precarious state of her friends. She had _Bellamy_ , her partner, protecting their people and needing her by his side – because they work best as a team. But there Finn was; searching for her without hesitation, and then-

Then _massacring an entire village whilst trying to find her_. (Clarke absently wonders if those deaths are put on her, also.)

Finn, who she walked towards now, tied up on a pole, Grounders surrounding with torches and a grudge to bear. Finn, who’d been so relentless in his pursuit of finding her that he’d killed and killed and killed. Finn, who she didn’t want to love, but goddammit –

Finn who she loved too much to let die by a thousand cuts; cutting off his tongue, yanking out his fingernails and torturing beyond simple disfiguration and to something that not even _God_ would recognise.

There was blood and an absent stinging on her stomach, where Indra’s spear pierced her skin, but Clarke only had eyes for the boy on the pole, left to die. God, what if he was her soulmate? What if this was how he died; what if she was the unlucky one to lose her soulmate at eighteen – left to bear the weight of the world forever without a matching soul to help hold it up. Clarke knew, in the back of her mind, that she didn’t need a soulmate to thrive – but God, if Finn was it; she didn’t want to thrive without him.

Clarke reached Finn after what felt like eternity and held back a sob. Tears already streaming down her cheeks, she pressed her lips to his, trying to say everything she couldn’t before into this one action. Her hand cupped the side of his face, and she felt the cool metal of the blade Raven had handed her, flush against her skin.

She was doing what was right, she was doing what was _fair_ – right? Finn may have killed but did he deserve torture?

Clarke swallowed, pulling away – screw that. Screw what was right and just for one minute, and instead focus on what she _wanted_. God knows how long it’s been since Clarke did that.

She focused on Finn – on the boy she didn’t want to die. On the boy who she didn’t want tortured. She didn’t know if he was her soulmate, but in that moment she didn’t care. She kissed him again, hoping that the world would tell her what to do – but, well, she had a pretty good idea at the back of her mind.

Clarke loved Finn and she could feel it in her bones. She wished, over everything else, that she didn’t.

When Clarke pulled away this time, she kissed him quickly, shortly, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t going to keep him alive – nothing would. But she had to tell him; he’d gone to all the trouble to find her, to try and be with her, and Clarke had never told him how she felt.

“I love you, too,” she swore, tears dripping down her face. She meant it. She meant every word and every fibre of her being wished she’d told him sooner; that all over this could have been avoided. And it hit her – she knew what was coming. She could almost hear the _Clarke, please_ , that Finn was going to say, and goddamn, she didn’t want it to be like this.

“I’m scared,” Finn whispered. Clarke nodded, cupping his face in her hands and trying to memorise the feel of his skin under hers. She wished she’d paid more attention on that night they were together in the bunker. Instead of replying, she knew what she had to do – she moved in closer, embracing him in her arms.

The blade that Raven had given her slid out of her sleeve and into her hand, and slowly, gently, she pressed it into his stomach, feeling the break of the skin and the blood pumping out onto her skin.

The tears poured like rain, and Finn’s body tensed under her. But this was what had to happen – maybe it wasn’t right to take the justice away from the Grounders; maybe this wasn’t just, but it was what Clarke wanted, it was the kindest thing she could do for _Finn_ , and goddammit she was going to do it.

“You’re going to be okay,” she promised him, softly into his skin. His breathing became laboured as Clarke pushed the blade in further, before pulling it carefully out. She knew the words were coming, and she wished she’d seen what he’d had on his arm. He’d covered it up before, and in the bunker it was never something she’d paid attention to – but she wished she knew in that moment. She wished she knew if they were each other’s soulmates.

“You’re okay,” she whispered, maybe more to herself than to Finn, but he nodded, his head flopping gently onto her shoulder. _You’re okay_ , she told herself again.

“Thanks, Princess,” he said, meaning every word, and Clarke let out a sob. It was almost like she felt the life leave his body and she wanted, with everything she was, to put it back in him. He was dead and Clarke hadn’t heard her words. She cried, pulling away from him now, crying for the blade she’d embedded in his stomach, for the boy she loved, for the future she couldn’t have.

Her words didn’t come, and the world felt sideways.

-

A lot happened after that. They burned his body, Clarke asking what his soulmate words were, and Raven saying, “you’re okay.” Clarke swallowed and Raven glared, and neither could be around each other for the moment. Later Raven returned, asking what his last words were.

“Thanks, Princess,” Clarke replied. Raven yanked her arm, shoving up the sleeve to reveal her words, _Clarke, please_. The look she had now wasn’t as cut-throat, but it wasn’t friendly.

But they moved on. She kissed Lexa, even though love was weakness and maybe Finn had made her weak; maybe she’d focused too much on him when the Mountain was more important, and in that spirit she sent in her _partner_ , feeling the emptiness almost immediately.

She knew she shouldn’t have done it, but Bellamy volunteered and now she wanted to run inside Mount Weather and pull him back out. But he was gone and so was Finn, and Lexa was confusing on so many levels that she didn’t fully understand.

Then they fought the Mountain and Clarke placed her hand on a lever she couldn’t bring herself to pull. A moment later Bellamy’s hand landed on top of hers, his deep, rough voice saying, “together”, because that’s how they did things; together, as partners, as King and Queen of their people on the ground; the resistance against the Mountain, against the Grounders. And they pulled the lever together, culling the people of Mount Weather and bringing them to the floor. Maya’s body was red and blistering, wet from Jasper’s tears, and Raven was covered in marks from being drilled in to and when Clarke saw her the understanding wasn’t clear, but-

They forgave each other and left the mountain, returning to the valley, where things were a little brighter and less confusing.

She didn’t want to go in with everything she was. Camp Jaha was just a sea of faces that she’d killed for, and Clarke wasn’t a person who ran from her problems, but she _was_ a person who ran from her fears – and they were all laid out right before her, screaming _monster_ over and over and over in her face.

She hugged Monty at the gate, and he got it; he understood because he had made it possible to kill all those people and those demons were hanging around his head just like they were for her. Just like Finn was; the soulmate who wasn’t; the boy who loved her too much for his own good.

Bellamy waited for her at the gate, and she tried, God did she _try_ to say goodbye.

“I bare it so they don’t have to,” she told him, quoting Dante and trying to think of the Ark, where she didn’t have to do anything of the sort.

“Clarke,” he said, low and raspy; so Bellamy, so, _so_ Bellamy. “You don’t have to bare it alone. I am right here.” She turned away from his face, but he just moved so she was still looking at him; at his darkened eyes and his curly hair that needed cutting. “We did that _together_ , Clarke. We _both_ killed those people. You can’t run away like this.”

“I can’t stay here,” she said, swallowing.

“What makes you think I can?” She looked at him then, sharply. He was broken in front of her; utterly wrecked. Clarke opened her mouth a few times, before looking at the ground.

“Bellamy,” she pleaded. “Please don’t do this.”

“Clarke,” he said, almost harsh but still so soft. “You’re the one trying to leave. Please come inside the gates; we can face this together.” She looked up now; such a mistake because how could she say no to a man as hurt as him; to eyes that pleaded with her and hands that gripped at her arms so gently.

“Together?” He nodded.

“Together, Clarke.”

She went inside the gates and the world hurt her over and over. They rebuilt Camp Jaha, throwing out the sign and renaming it Arkadia when it was clear that Thelonious Jaha wasn’t really the martyr they needed anymore. Clarke hid inside her tent for days, refusing to come out and stay in the remainder of the Ark like Abby did, or like Bellamy was offered. Instead he stayed in a tent right next door to hers, where he could reach her when she screamed at the nightmares, and hold her until the shaking stopped.

They got the drink that Bellamy had wanted, but it was inside her tent where she didn’t have to face Jasper, drunk at the bar with his shaved head and angry eyes, or Monty who had receded inside himself, or Raven, who could barely even walk.

But Bellamy was there, day in, day out. He brought her each of her meals, and even when she began to see other people; when she didn’t hide in her bed when Raven arrived at the door, or her mother appeared asking for her help in medical – it was still him who looked after her. And who, she realised a month in, she had yet to look after in return.

One night, when the stars shone brightly and the moon was almost full, Clarke didn’t sleep. She wondered, absently, if Bellamy woke up to her screaming, or if he was already awake when her nightmares hit. That night she found out.

She heard the heavy breathing first; laboured and fast, like he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs, and Clarke sat up, listening closely. Then was the crying out; there was name after name and he’d call them every few seconds, questioning, _Clarke? O? Miller?_

Clarke stepped out of her tent, ignoring the camp she’d barely seen since she returned, and moved into his, where he was tossing and turning in his cot. She hadn’t been anywhere else than her tent, really, for a long time. She left maybe once a week for a bath that Raven would drag her to, and when she needed the toilet she would sneak out and go to the latrines not so far away. But this was the first time she’d settled down in another person’s living quarters.

She ran her hand gently over Bellamy’s forehead, feeling the sweat under her skin. When he awoke, there wasn’t a scream, but a jolt, and he was sitting upwards. She immediately moved to his side, comforting him and running her hand down his arm, across his back, through his hair.

“You’re okay,” she said, over and over, swallowing at the words. She pushed Finn from her mind and focused on Bellamy, staring at her with wide eyes.

“What are you doing here?” His voice was hoarse and Clarke spoke softly in return.

“I heard you calling out,” she replied. “You were having a nightmare.” He paused before nodding. “You didn’t tell me you had those.” He looked away, and in the darkness Clarke placed her chin on his shoulder. “What are yours about?”

There was silence, and eventually he shifted. He moved so he was lying back down on his cot, enough space for Clarke to lie next to him, and waited until she was comfortable, staring up at the ceiling like him, before speaking.

“When I went into the Mountain,” he started, quietly in the night. “I went in as a prisoner. They sprayed me with acid and locked me in a cage.” Clarke swallowed, gritting her teeth – she was the reason he went in to that. “They drained me of my blood at one point; there was this Grounder they were going to string up, but I volunteered instead, and they injected me with something, I don’t know. I woke up to Maya and a guard who I…” he trailed off and Clarke reached out blindly, grabbing her hand in his. “I strangled him to death, Clarke. That’s what I did.”

They were silent then; letting his words drape over them. Clarke eventually turned to him, shifting onto her side, and Bellamy glanced over.

“I’m sorry you had to do that,” Clarke said. “I’m sorry that’s something that happened to you. I really wish there was another way.” Bellamy looked away and Clarke wanted him to say something, but he didn’t. He was silent, but his eyes didn’t close, and this – this was probably her _best friend_ , she wanted to be able to talk to him.

“Do you have a soulmate?” she asked, pulling on the first topic to come to mind. Bellamy raised his eyebrows, looking at her now.

“Yeah, do you?” She nodded. They couldn’t see their arms in the dark, let alone their words, so neither of them moved.

“Mine says, _Clarke, please_ ,” she told him. “Part of me thought Finn was going to say it, when…” she swallowed and Bellamy nodded, not needing the rest of the sentence.

“You thought Finn was your soulmate?” She shrugged her one free shoulder.

“I knew that I loved him, but I suppose love isn’t enough for a soulmate. To be honest, I don’t understand soulmates at all.” Bellamy smiled a little in the dark.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to understand them, Clarke,” he replied. “There’s just a person out there who you’re perfect for, and who is perfect for you.”

“I was Finn’s soulmate,” she told him. “But he wasn’t mine.” Bellamy looked over now and Clarke could see the whites of his eyes.

“Seriously?” She nodded. “Wow, that’s some shitty luck.” Clarke almost snorted and Bellamy huffed out a laugh. “Maybe soulmates don’t make any sense at all.”

“You’re telling me,” Clarke mumbled.

“I think mine’s a little nicer than yours,” Bellamy said a moment later.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Mine says, _I love you so much_.” Clarke smiled; a real, genuine smile, in the darkness. There was someone out there who was going to love Bellamy with everything they were, and he was going to know it, right at the end.

“That’s a nice one,” Clarke agreed. They stayed in the silence for a while, their hands still joined and the distant sounds of the footsteps of the guards on patrol. They stayed awake for hours, not talking, not moving, just thinking and letting the night pass them by.

“Go to sleep, Clarke,” Bellamy said eventually, as if he could feel sleep pulling at the edges of Clarke’s being. “I’ll still be here when you wake up.”

-

Clarke’s tent was given to one of the surviving delinquents a week later, as she hadn’t slept in it during that time. It wasn’t a conscious action, but she just ended up going to Bellamy’s tent rather than her own, and neither of them mentioned it. The nightmares still happened, but there wasn’t as much of a fear of waking up to the dark and the feeling of being alone. Instead, they knew the other was going to be there, cradling them as they cried or shoved the images from their minds. It was an unspoken deal, but neither of them left the tent until the other was awake, so they would always be there for each other. Time went on.

Clarke didn’t stay in Bellamy’s tent during the days, and instead moved out into the camp and found herself a corner of the med bay, and a gun that didn’t feel like death in her hand. They found Rovers in the carpark that Bellamy and Octavia had found Lincoln as a Reaper in, and they started using them for patrols. The Grounders weren’t fighting with them – just because Lexa had betrayed them at the Mountain didn’t mean that they would begin attacking them again, apparently, and the peace was nice; calming.

Maybe Clarke knew that she was a killer and a murderer, and blood painted her hands in the same way she used to paint canvases. But she was a killer who bared the weight of that title with her best friend, and it was how they went, because Clarke wanted no one more than she wanted Bellamy. He was there all the time; through thick and thin, and she strove to do the same for him. It was like he understood her perfectly; like his soul matched hers.

The day she noticed that was the day she stopped in the middle of bandaging a child’s arm, and Clarke bit her tongue so hard it began to bleed.

Bellamy’s soul matched Clarke’s. Wasn’t that what a soulmate was?

Sure, she would never find out for definite until the last time they ever spoke to each other, but Clarke felt it on her skin and in her veins.

A few nights later she was the first one back to the tent they shared. He came in, took one look at her, staring at the ceiling of tent blankly, and sighed.

“You want to go somewhere?” he asked, a smile playing about his lips. Clarke looked over, hesitating before nodding.

“Okay.” She pulled on her shoes and he kept his gun around his shoulder as they wandered to the edge of camp in the dark. Curfew wasn’t for another hour, but Bellamy didn’t seem to care, grabbing her hand and pulling her behind the remains of the Ark. He stopped next to the fence. They’d been busy, creating a new fence for Arkadia, and they’d de-electrified the remaining few panels, this one of simple wiring included.

“We’re going out of camp?” Clarke whispered. Bellamy shot her a grin, and she was reminded of the Rebel King, from the first few days on the ground.

“What? Afraid?” he teased. Clarke rolled her eyes, taking her hand from his, and climbing through the fence. He smirked at her, something familiar and kind. “Brave Princess,” he said.

Together, they snuck out into the woods; the moonlight passing over them and lighting up their skin. This Earth had so much to offer, and it was clear in the night when they passed glowing blue butterflies and birds that squawked a tune and others that sang it back, exactly the same. Bellamy seemed to be leading her somewhere, though, and they eventually found themselves at the crest of a hill, the moon high above them, curfew been and gone, and the stars glittering across the velvet sky.

They sat down together, sides pressed against one another and smiles large as they looked out over the rolling hills and woods that spread out before them.

“It’s so beautiful,” Clarke breathed.

“Yeah, it is,” Bellamy agreed. She turned to look at him, a smile beaming across her face, and found that he was already looking at her. “Do you ever wonder if we would have met on the Ark?” he asked after a beat, his cheeks colouring as he looked away.

“What, if I hadn’t been locked up?”

“Yeah – if there wasn’t an oxygen crisis, and I hadn’t lost my role in the guard…” Clarke watched him swallow, before looking out over the scene in front of them.

“Maybe,” she said. “Maybe we would have met and hated each other for the longest of time – because you would have gone all _Princess of Ark_ on me, and I would have gone _he’s a rude jack-ass_ on you.” She smiled at him as he scoffed.

“You think we’d ever be like that?” he asked sarcastically, and Clarke laughed, happy and free.

“I think we were destined to know each other,” she admitted eventually, pointedly looking away from him.

“Yeah?” His voice was like a whisper, and she felt his gaze on her face as she nodded.

“I think the universe wanted us to meet, so no matter how everything else played out, we would have been a constant.” Bellamy was silent and Clarke almost thought he’d left her, when she felt him lace his fingers through hers. She looked over at last, his gaze hot on her, and his mouth parted slightly.

“I like that idea,” he told her. “I really like that idea.” Clarke smiled, and that was all that was needed for them to press together; mouth on mouth, hands on skin, breathing each other in for everything they were. He kissed her slowly at first, rough hands grazing along her stomach, under her shirt, and hers at his neck, carding her fingers through his thick locks of hair.

His tongue slipped into her mouth and they moulded together perfectly; fitting like two puzzle pieces and knowing the other’s body better than they knew themselves. They both began to want more and speed up their movements at the same pace, in tune and perfectly in sync. It was _right_ , Clarke could feel. It was like flowers blossoming, stars twinkling, bright lights and peaceful days; large calm lakes, tall mountains, the way the grass moved in the breeze.

She breathed Bellamy in for everything he was, and she knew, without a doubt, that he was her soulmate.

-

They returned to Arkadia in the morning, when the fence panel was being slotted into place behind the station. They didn’t worry though; just swung their hands between them as they wandered in through the front gate, happy and not caring; blissfully at peace with each other.

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!  
> Celebrate with me down in the comments, and click the kudos button out of the kindness of your hearts! Thank you!
> 
> Celebrate with me on [tumblr](http://tempestaurora.tumblr.com/) too!
> 
> (The unofficial ending, that I was going to write but would have made this fic so sad, was in the distant future, Bellamy dying and struggling for breath, painfully leaving the world, and whispering "Clarke, please" for her to kill him. As she cried, she nodded, telling him, "I love you so much" and she gently pressed her blade into his neck, like she'd done for Atom, so, so long ago.)


End file.
